


Duel

by IrenkaFeralKitty



Series: Rogue Squadron Shorts [26]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Legends - All Media Types, Star Wars Legends: X-Wing Series - Aaron Allston & Michael Stackpole
Genre: Dueling, Gen, Inappropriate Use of the Force, Swords, Teasing, Wes is such a big brother
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-18
Updated: 2020-03-18
Packaged: 2021-03-01 00:54:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,484
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23196619
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IrenkaFeralKitty/pseuds/IrenkaFeralKitty
Summary: Luke needs help with his sword practice.
Series: Rogue Squadron Shorts [26]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1291190
Comments: 5
Kudos: 29





	Duel

“Sorry!” Tycho called out as something flew towards Wedge, light reflecting off a bright metal surface. He dove to the side, just barely ducking out of the way. As low cursing floated into Wedge’s ears, for a brief moment he considered joining in. Instead, he cast a quick, cautious look around for more flying projectiles before climbing back to his feet. He bent down and picked up the weapon, then continued forward. 

“I thought the point of sword fighting is that it was at close range,” he said pointedly. 

Luke scowled and took the practice sword back, still shaking a stinging hand. “I’m working on it.”

“Mm hm.” Wedge glanced around again, then retreated to join Wes at the far wall. “How’s it going?” he asked as Luke and Tycho reset themselves. 

“Eh, he’s getting better,” Wes said. He offered Wedge his water bottle, then took a swig when Wedge declined. “He may have found a teacher for the Jedi Force stuff, but it’s pretty clear they only touched on the basics of using a sword.”

Luke and Tycho were still for several moments, then suddenly exploded into action. Wedge saw Luke pressing forward, swinging aggressively at Tycho-

“Dead,” Tycho pronounced. While Luke cursed again, Tycho swatted his ribs with his sword. “You’re still bringing your sword too far back and leaving yourself open. Knock it off.”

“You have to keep your guard up,” Wes added. He took one more sip of water, then passed the bottle to Wedge so he could trade places with Tycho. His practice blade was larger and heavier than both Tycho and Luke’s blades, and would have been more fitting as a prop in a neobarb holofilm than something wielded by a Jedi.

Luke was noticeably leary as Wes readied himself with a devilish grin, jerking his head to the side slightly to try and get his sweat drenched hair out of his eyes. 

Wes charged. His swing was a bit wilder than Tycho’s, didn’t carry the same effortless finesse, but he still managed to smoothly check the swing so that the blade was always in front of himself, ready to block Luke’s and knock it aside so he could attack again.

While the practice blades clanged off each other, Wedge offered Tycho the bottle of water and settled back to watch with interest as the duel unfolded before them.

“The Taanabian Living History Association, huh,” Wedge said in amusement as the pair broke apart. Wes’s blade twitched, testing Luke’s reactions. 

“He swears it was his brother who adored the TLHA and that his parents made him go along to keep an eye on him, but I really don’t see Wes being all that upset at getting to wear costumes and hit people with primitive weapons.”

“That’s practically a given,” Wedge snorted. 

The silvery blades caught together, then suddenly Wes was swinging forwards and Luke leapt up and over the blade, spinning over Wes’s head in a sudden display of Force-aided agility. Unlike when Luke deployed these sorts of tactics against Tycho, Wes didn’t appear to have any issue adjusting. He spun, blade lashing out in a one-handed grip just in time to catch Luke’s again as he lunged towards Wes’s exposed back.

Wes waggled the fingers of his free hand, then suddenly shoved his hand forward like he was pushing something.

Luke gasped and stumbled backwards, then cursed again. 

“Come on, Luke,” Wedge called out, grinning. “Wes isn’t even the slightest bit Force sensitive. He can’t actually throw you around with a sweep of his hand.”

“I know that, he’s just…” Luke glared, speaking through gritted teeth. “He’s really good at _thinking_ like he is and it keeps throwing me off.”

Still grinning wolfishly, Wes surged forward again, and this time Luke was ready for him. Their blades locked together as though bound tight. Luke strained visibly as he pressed his blade against Wes’s and a light flashing in his eyes hinted at an extra push with the Force.

Wes struggled to keep his blade up, the grin turning into a snarl as his jaw clenched-

Silver flashed as Wes abruptly lowered his blade, leaving Luke to stumble forward and directly onto the practice weapon. 

“Gut wound,” Wes called out in a gleeful sing-song voice. “I win again!”

“I’m taking a break,” Luke responded sourly. “You and Tycho can duel next.”

“Tycho? No way,” Wes scowled. He quickly followed Luke as he left the center of the practice room. “He’s had actual fencing training. He’ll make mincemeat out of me.”

“And what kind of training do you have?” Wedge asked.

“Advice from a dozen hobbyists and one asshole who kept throwing bags of dried beans at me anytime my guard slipped during a duel.”

“... I could throw things.”

“Shut up, Wedge,” Luke snapped.

“I’m not sure you’re expressing a proper Jedi’s calm,” Tycho suggested as he passed the water bottle to Luke. 

“I’m going to stab you both in your sleep.”

“Aww, someone’s not used to losing.”

Luke’s elbow shot out and caught Wes’s side. “I have plenty of reason to want to get better, though,” he said, squeezing his gloved hand. The prosthetic was still fairly new and they were all still getting used to how Luke kept it covered most of the time.

Instead of offering words of comfort, Wes leaned forward, wrapping his arm around Luke’s shoulders, and blew a raspberry on his cheek. Luke shrieked in shock and flailed, trying to pry Wes off him with no success. 

Wes tsk’d at Luke. “Such negativity. I might need to employ more forceful measures.” Still holding tight, he stuck a finger in his mouth, twisting it around so it was properly covered in spit.

A wrestling match broke out between the two men that Wedge and Tycho hastily backed away from. Luke had the Force to help him, sure, but Wes had five younger siblings. He was an expert at landing minor acts of torment despite his target’s efforts to escape. 

“Did you need us for something?” Tycho asked as he quickly collected the training weapons.

Wedge shook his head. “Nah, I just needed a break from ship maintenance. I figured this would be plenty entertaining,” he said, grinning. 

In front of them, Luke howled as Wes pinned his arms in a tight embrace and started swinging him from side to side like some kind of stuffed toy. Despite their difference in height, Wes managed to send Luke’s feet flying from side to side well above the matted floor several times before he suddenly began to spin in a tight circle.

“Are you sure you don’t want lessons?” Tycho asked as he laughed softly.

Wedge gave him an incredulous look. “Are you joking? I’d be worse than Hobbie.”

Tycho hummed softly, unperturbed as Luke managed to do _something_ that sent him and Wes crashing to the ground. Wes’s arms loosened as they landed with an _oof_ and then it was Wes’s turn to scream as Luke grabbed his feet with the Force and started hauling him around the room.

“Hobbie keeps forgetting the additional strength his prosthetic arm provides him. You have a narrow window to develop some real skills before he figures out how to adjust,” Tycho said.

“No, thank you.” Wedge and Tycho had to step aside as Wes and Luke went careening past them. “I’m in enough danger just watching!”

“Your loss,” Tycho said. He passed Wedge the heavy blade Wes had been using then stepped forward. “Alright, break’s over,” he called out. His voice was firm and authoritative and brought the others to an (almost) immediate halt.

Wes had managed to wrap an arm around Luke’s leg and seemed to be clinging to him like he was a lifeline. Moments later, Luke’s Force hold vanished and Wes’s upside-down body crashed down onto the floor. Luke sighed as he took his training blade from Tycho and Wes scrambled out of the way as they prepared to duel again.

“Wet willies?” Wedge asked when Wes reached him. 

“He has to be able to persevere through all kinds of adversity,” Wes said solemnly, then he grinned. “Plus, if we let him start feeling miserable about Bespin again, you know he ends up in a funk that lasts for days. I’m helping.”

“You’re a lunatic,” Wedge corrected. 

Taking his attention off Wes, he focused on Tycho and Luke. Even to his untrained eye, he could see that Luke was keeping his blade up more than before and that his movements were more fluid.

“See? He’s getting better.” Wes leaned against Wedge, resting his cheek against his shoulder and hugging him close with a loose, friendly arm. “We’ll be able to turn Leia on him soon. And that’ll be good for both of them.”

“It really will be.” Wedge relaxed into Wes’s embrace and grinned with it was Tycho’s blade that was knocked away. “It really will.”


End file.
